Pour Toujours
by Sakura123
Summary: AU "What is and what Should Never Be": As Dean is haunted by a woman in white, he becomes increasingly concerned for his mother without really knowing why. TWO-SHOT, COMPLETE 5-24-2012.
1. Act I Uncomfortable Environments

**Pour Toujours**

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**Author:**Sakura123

**Written:** 6/10/07

**Completed:** 1/19/09

**Rating: T**

**Genre:** Drama/General

**Timeline:**Alternate Universe _("What is and what Should Never Be_")

**Summary:** She was fine when he left. That was just barely over an hour ago.

**Disclaimer: **_Supernatural_ and all related places or things are Property of Eric Kripke. _Auguries of Innocence_ is property of William Blake. _Midnight Liberation Zone_ (from _R.O.D. THE TV_) is property of Geneon Entertainment.

**Authors Note:** This is my first attempt at writing anything related to Supernatural. This story "_Pour Toujours (Forever)" _was simply meant to be a ONE-SHOT (though I might consider turning it into a bunch stories I wish to compile into one place, [shrugs] who knows?) based within the realms of _"What is and What Should Never Be"_, though it doesn't follow the episode entirely. Reviews of the Norm and Constructive Criticism is welcome, but no rude or crass comments. If you don't like this, then kindly please exit.

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_**Act I. Uncomfortable Environments**_

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"….Listening to me?" Sam's voice brought Dean back from the brink of his own blissful oblivion. The older brother twisted his head in Sam's direction, an inquiring expression on his face. Sam raised his shoulders in question, his face etched with disbelief as Dean sorted through his memories in hopes to retrieve anything resembling the conversation he was pretending to have with Sam. When nothing came to him, he titled his head and grinned. "You know me, Sammy," Dean answered. Sam scoffed with a quick nod of his head, shoving his hands into his pockets he allowed his eyes wander about the sidewalk. "Yeah, I know you. Through one ear and out the other," Sam grumbled.

Dean gave him a sort of helpless shrug, he couldn't help that his mind suddenly remembered the title of a book his mother wanted for her birthday (which was almost two days ago now). He had gotten her a Kitchen-Aid instead, promising to get the book when he had the chance; "Work really had me swamped this week. I'm sorry," Dean remembered saying to her after everyone had gone home and there was just the two of them in the house. Mary, ever the understanding parent, gave her son a pat on the leg and smiled. "I know you've gotten it if you could. I'm not mad Dean, honest," She leaned in and planted a kiss on his furrowed brow. In that moment, Dean knew he was forgiven, but spent the rest of the week trying to remember the title of the book Mary wanted.

How ironic that he would remember the title, and find it sitting behind the local bookstore's window while on an outing with his estranged brother. "Not really. I was just remembering … something. What were we talking about?" Dean answered moving towards the bookstore's front door. "Hey, Dean!" Sam followed after his brother, a little perturbed by his absentmindedness. Dean had covered a lot of ground despite the length of his legs, Sam had to jog across the room just catch up with him. "Dude, what is your problem. We have meet Jessica and Carmen at the restaurant in fifteen minutes," Sam said. "I know that. I've got to get something," The elder answered.

Sam made a face. "What, _Sports Illustrated? Maxim, Playboy?"_ Dean threw his brother a look of disdain over his shoulder as he approached the information desk. Sam raised an eyebrow in mild confusion when they past the magazine wrack, he groaned when the woman sitting at the desk was no longer concerned with her lukewarm coffee mug. She smiled pleasantly at the two young men. She was quite easy on the eyes, however barely above the average beauty level, Dean noted. Her brunette hair curled around her round face, most of it was pulled up into a pony tail. Square reading glasses complemented her almond shaped eyes. She was thin, wafer thin. It made Dean wonder how many meals a day she skipped to keep up that figure. She sat up a little straighter when the duo stood before the desk, fixing her glasses in a self-conscious manner. "How man I help you?" Her tone practiced, businesslike.

Dean didn't answer at first, his entire focus was suddenly on his hands, Sam nudged his brother roughly. "Oh -- yeah, sorry about that," He chuckled nervously. "I was wondering, if that book over there ---" he pointed the back of the book he had been eying, "---_Midnight Liberation Zone_, was for sale?" Dean inquired. The woman regarded the young man standing in front of her for a moment, averted her attention to the book sitting idly in the store's window display, then focused her attention on the computer. Sam watched the precise movements of the woman's shoulders with mild exasperation. Jessica was plotting his death at this very moment. He could feel it. "Your in luck, sir. That particular copy is for sale, and it's a 1st edition. Hardback, too," The woman chirped almost too cheerfully. Sam rolled his eyes, _yeah, lucky him._ He thought wearily. He watched his brother fish out the proper amount of money (about $50.86), the woman placed the book into a mini plastic bag alongside the receipt and change. "Thank you for shopping with us. Would you be interested in joining our book club?" The woman added hastily.

Dean gave a mock-salute as he and brother headed towards the door. "Thanks, but, no thanks," He said. They exited the store with renewed speed in their pace. Sam making the most headway while Dean lingered in the back flipping through the book he purchased. "Hurry up, Dean, we're more than fifteen minutes late!" Sam shouted over the heavy traffic. Dean's eyebrows twitched in response, he wasn't one for being tardy (especially when it came to Carmen) but there some things that just had to wait. Especially when it came to his Mother. Dean placed the book back into the bag as he raised his head to stare down at his brother's solid blue dress-shirt. "Yeah, yeah, quit worrying so much S---" Dean's breath was suddenly caught in his throat. In the corner of his eye Dean caught sight of a familiar shape standing just across the street, waving, flickering in and out of existence, calling out to him.

His head turned so fast, he swore he almost caused himself whiplash in process. His eyes barley had time to focus on the figure, a bus came barreling through his vision, the silhouette was gone in the blink of an eye. Dean stood there for ten more good minutes before the sensation of his brother's hand clamping down on his arm brought him back to his senses. "What are you doing? We're running late, C'mon!" Sam grounded out. Dean allowed his brother to drag him up the street then yanked his arm out of his hand.

Sam faced his brother with a deadly serious expression etched upon his features. "Don't blow a fuse, Sam, I thought I saw something," Dean answered, walking past. Sam came up beside his brother, the air around the youngest Winchester practically sizzled with the irritation that seemed to be killing what remained of his good mood. "Well, I didn't. All I saw was you, staring off into the distance, _at nothing_," Sam placed the empathized on the last of his sentence. "Just because _you_ didn't see anything there, doesn't mean there wasn't something there. But, hey, whatever floats your boat, man," Was Dean's response. Sam scowled at the profile of his brother's face. "Your such a---" The words died on the tip of his tongue and he didn't know why. He ignored the curious glance he got from Dean, allowing the silence to wedge its way between them. "What'd you get Mom again?" Without pause for inquiries, Dean reached into the plastic bag and revealed to his brother the book. Sam took it gingerly, as if he were afraid to touch it almost. It wasn't like his brother to answer his questions without questioning why.

Then again, It was like he was an entirely different person when it came to their mother and Carmen. He sighed as he rubbed his fingers across the smooth hardback cover, he could just imagine the look on Mom's face when she got this. "What makes you think, she'll like this?" Sam challenged, in hopes of a conversation of a normal magnitude. Dean gave his brother an incredulous look, as if saying 'you know the answer that question'. Sam shrugged his shoulders, "Humor me, man," He said lamely. Dean felt the bones in his neck crack as his turned his gaze away from his brother. It was obvious that Sam, despite his stubbornness, was feeling the affects of their broken relationship, and yearned for more beyond their arguments. Dean felt it sometimes himself, often wondering what even created the rift between them. It been so long ago. "She told me, you know, without really sayin' it, that she wanted this book for her birthday. That was about a week ago," Dean answered. "Why?"

Sam shrugged nonchalantly. "Just curious. Besides, I know you could never read this." Sam paused for dramatic effect, watching his brother bristling at his words. "The reading level's too high." Sam's words did not go unchallenged; Dean bolted after him as Sam made haste down the sidewalk towards their desired destination. Laughing as the words, "You're so dead!" Escaped his brother's lips.

* * *

Carmen Porter was never entirely privy to the history surrounding the fallout between Dean and his brother, Sam Winchester. Whatever had happened, happened long before she came along. She'd attempt to get Dean to talk about, maybe give her a answer that would satisfy her curiosity. Dean told her things, would tell her bits and pieces of times in their relationship without ever going into detail what had actually caused the divide. The hint that she always searched for, never really came up and thus his dodgy behavior fed her curiosity. Why did Sam despise his brother, in a sense, so much? Jessica wasn't much help on this particular subject either; Sam was as reserved about what he told his fiancée about he and brother's tattered relationship as Dean was. After a while, Carmen stopped asking in fear that she would begin to sound like a busybody more than a concerned girlfriend.

_Why was she even thinking about this? It was cold case subject as far as Dean was concerned and…_ Carmen adjusted her Nine West sunglasses as she watched her lover attempt to suck his frozen milkshake up the straw he had chosen over the last spoon (which was given to her to eat her own Ice-cream). Her eyes wandered the large expanse was the sunlit area of downtown Lawrence, Kansas. Watching the two men who sat across from her, Carmen would've never guessed the two of them were at odds. She smiled as Dean's face scrunched up in disappointment at his failed attempt to get his milkshake through the straw.

Dejectedly, he slammed the cup down on the table and proceeded to prop his elbow up on the wall in front of their table and peer outside the large window. "I told you to use the spoon," Sam laughed, swallowing another spoonful of his chocolate ice-cream. "_Hmmm_… so delicious." Dean glared sideways at his brother's smug expression, taking note of Jessica rolling her eyes at her husband-to-be. Dean shrugged nonchalantly at his brother's jibe and snatched the unused spoon resting next to Jessica's empty ice-cream bowl.

He twirled the finger length object in front of his brother's face, Sam's long arm came out from under the table in an attempt to retrieve it. Dean gave the spoon a slobbery lick with his tongue before shoveling a hefty amount of frozen milkshake out of his cup and into his mouth. Sam near sputtered with anger while the ice-cream was still melting in his mouth, he glared daggers at his brother's grin. "Dean, that was Jessica's spoon!" He cried, a little overdramatically. The look on Dean's face was mixture of irritation and amusement, ignoring the heated glare of his brother Dean gestured to the curly haired blonde. "Jessica doesn't mind, do 'ya Jess?" Dean said casually, taking another bite. If there ever was a time that Jessica would've mad at Dean's 'take first, ask later' antics, it should've been right there. However, she remained calm and gave the elder Winchester a tight lipped smile. "I would appreciate that you ask to use my spoon, instead of taking it," Jessica answered stiffly, the "angelic" smile never leaving her face.

Jessica's spoon entered Dean's mouth half-way indicating that he had heard the implication behind the blonde's polite words. His Adams apple convulsed unconsciously as he sucked on the melting soft-drink against his lips. He turned away from Jessica --- who grinned at her ill at ease boyfriend --- and chewed on the spoon, a contemplative expression on his face. Dean recovered quickly, his infectious smile and hazel eyes replaced the shadow of anxiety that crossed his features before. "Yeah, well, you know I'm good for it, Jess," He said, wagging his eyebrows. Jessica scoffed in mock-disgust as she instinctively placed a hand on Sam's clenching fist.

Dean pretended to gag on his spoon, Sam shoved his brother in a good-natured manner. The foursome lapsed into a uncomfortable silence. After a while Jessica and Carmen engaged in brief conversations in hopes drawing their solemn boyfriends out of their contemplative moods. It worked a total two times; Carmen made a comment on Dean's 'excellent' cooking skills, particularly his spaghetti and meatballs. In response to her praise, Sam replied, "Jessica's the better the cook. Nothing like a woman's touch," with a drawl. Dean rolled his eyes at this, he said nothing to challenge the implication and simply stared off into the distance. The second time, Jessica suggested a vacation for four to Tahiti, both men shot the ideal down with a firm and unisoned "No!" which left no room for argument.

Carmen slouched her shoulders as she removed her glasses from her face, her brown eyes visible for the first time that afternoon. "Do the two you plan on giving us the silent treatment like this all day? This was supposed to be _our_ day." Dean's jaw clenched slightly as he met his girlfriend's gaze, he looked down at his melting milkshake with mild interest. It was Sam's voice whom vouched for them. "No, we don't mean to be jerks -- well, I don't mean to be a jerk, I don't know about Dean--"

"_Hey!_" Dean interrupted.

"---_But, _I_ promise_ we'll be on our best behavior. You have our word as faithful boyfriends," Sam empathized, glancing in his brother's direction. Dean returned the acknowledgement by nodding in affirmative, swallowing the last of his milk shake. Jessica and Carmen regarded both men sitting across from them with wary eyes. There was no reason not believe them, but knowing Sam and Dean, they would find something to use to get each other nerves. The goal was not give them said reason. Carmen pushed herself up out of her chair, her hands placed firmly on the smooth marble table, Dean rose from his chair as well and moved to join her outside the confined space of the table area. Almost instinctively he snaked his arm around Carmen's waist, his fingers tapping against the exposed skin of her stomach.

"Well," Jessica sighed, hoisting her bag strap up on her shoulder and rising up from her chair as well. "I think its time for a retail therapy. C'mon Sam." Sam choked back his hesitance, taking Jessica's hand he allowed her to lead him down the narrow pathway of tables towards the exit. Dean made it his business to dump their trash in the nearest available trashcan before he and Carmen followed the couple outside. Much to the Winchester's dismay, they spent the rest of the day shopping for the girls.

* * *

Dean let out a weary sigh as he parked the Impala across the street from the Winchester residence. He had taken Carmen back to their apartment a half an hour ago, Carmen was more than happy to leave him to his business. There was plenty stuff in the shopping bags to keep her entertained during his absence. Laying idly on the passengers seat was the book he had bought earlier that day. The book for Mary. Twisting tiredly in his seat, he listed to the bones in his back and neck pop, reaching over he picked the book up off the seat and climbed out of the Impala. He delighted at the sound of the door springs creaking loudly, a sign of its age. He shut the door. Pocketing his keys he trudged across the street his posture reflecting the purpose and determination he felt swelling inside his chest.

Then he saw again. In the corner of his eye, he spotted the wavering figure standing off in the distance, waving, this time frantically, in his direction. Dean dared not to turn around, his body stiffened with fear. The wind carried the soundless voice calling out his name. Desperation tinged the air, Dean pulled at his collar in hopes to reducing the choking sensation that curled around his neck. "God," He gasped heavily, turning his head in the direction of the wavering figure. This time he managed to glimpse a better image of 'her'; The sunlight was directly in his line of sight, he saw her nevertheless.

A flowing white nightgown at the mercy of a strong wind that never reached him, hair that glowed ethereally under the setting sun, and blue eyes that paled against the whites of her eyes. Dean blinked unsure if he was actually seeing this phantom woman. Unfortunately, just as he blinked, she vanished, not a trace of her existence lingered. The tightness around his throat vanished, Dean let out a breath of relief. He remained in the middle of the street for few more minutes, staring at the empty sidewalk across the way until the familiar sound of a door opening brought him out of his stupor. "Dean? Dean are you alright?" It was Mary. Dean looked up at his mother, standing outside the door wearing a pair of sweatpants and tank top.

"Uh, yeah," Dean answered, a smile plastered on his face. "I was just inspecting the lawn." _That was so lame._ Mary, however, didn't seem to notice the uneasiness in her son's voice. If she did, she decided not to pay any attention to it. "Come inside sweetheart, its getting dark," Mary said, retreating back inside. Dean crossed the street quickly and bounded up the stairs into the house. Immediately he picked up the smell of food cooking in the oven, a childish grin spread across his face, he ventured into the kitchen where he found his mother standing over the sink, humming to herself. "What's cooking?" He asked, joining her side. Mary smiled when her son planted a kiss on her cheek. Turning to face him, she said, "_My_ dinner, why? Your not staying over again, are you?" Mary inquired, smiling. Dean shrugged innocently, biting the inside of his mouth. "Carmen wouldn't mind," Dean said, a bit too quickly.

"No, of course she wouldn't. She's probably one the most understanding girlfriend you'll ever have, but its not fair to her, sweetheart," Mary insisted, the humor gone from her voice. "You've spent more time with me this week than any other time before you were old enough to move out. What's wrong?" Dean shrugged nonchalantly, creating patterns out of the puddles of water on the marble countertop. "Nothin'," Dean said. His eyes rolled around in his head before meeting his mother's piercing blue gaze, a nervous chuckle managed to slip past his defenses and he cringed at the sight of a triumphant smirk on Mary's face.

A tired sigh rumbled in her chest, she placed her hands on his shoulders and began to message them. Dean focused on everything except his mother, he stared at the flecks of dried mud on his boots, the worn shoelaces coming apart at the seems. His mother's hand found its way to the side of his face, he relented at first, but steadily allowed her hand to turn his head back towards her. Her fingers messaged his scalp, a soothing technique she used since before he could remember. "Dean, baby, you've gotta tell me what's bothering you or I can't help you," Mary insisted. "Is it the nightmares again?"

"Mom, I haven't had a nightmare in three months," Dean said. "Yes, according to you," Mary replied, with just as much skepticism when she first asked what was bothering him. Dean's chest heaved with obvious frustration, chewing the tip of his tongue as he moved away from the sink.

Mary watched him silently, noting the way the muscles in his jaw tightened as his teeth grinded together. He paced around the kitchen rug for a few minutes, before looking back up her. His mood had done a complete 180; The smile returned though it made no effort to reach his eyes, for the first time he had come into the house, she noticed the bag in his hand. "What's that?"

Dean stared down at his occupied hand, suddenly remembering there was a bag in his hand. "Oh, this? Nothin' just a … late birthday present," Dean explained hesitantly. Mary moved away from the sink to join her son's side, she extended her hand as the plastic bag made its way to her. She listened to the plastic crinkle under her fingers, slowly she turned the hard, square object upward and reached into the bag. Mary reframed from letting out a squeak of delight. A shaky laugh rumbled inside her chest as she looked upon the cover of _Midnight Liberation Zone_ with awe and disbelief. Dean watched Mary open the book, bringing it up to face to inhale the 'new book' sent wafting from the wrinkle-free pages.

He swallowed uneasily when she went still, her eyes staring off into the distance. Dean turned in the direction she was staring, he saw nothing out of the ordinary besides his father's extra baseball bat, that always remained in the Umbrella-Ben, and the jacket he forgot to take home with him last week. She shuddered, pulling herself out of her reverie. "Thank you for the gift, Dean," Mary said. "I didn't expect to get until Christmas at least!" Dean chuckled dryly at the joke, he wasn't so forgetful nowadays. Silence lingered around them now, Dean found himself unsure of what to say to Mary who continued to watch him with those concerned blue eyes. A uneasy chuckle from Dean broke the silence, Mary watched him message the back of his neck with a sort of grimace/smile, knowing what was to come next.

"I, ah, should probably get back to Carmen --- I'll see you later, Mom," He started to say, taking a step backward.

"Dean--" The young man did not wait to hear what she had say, he made his way out of the kitchen through the living room. Mary followed him to the front door, she grabbed his jacket off the coat hanger as he unlocked the door. Taking a hold of his wrist Mary demanded that her son face her with a simple tug of his arm. Dean felt his throat tighten as he released the door knob from his grasp, turning slowly he kept his eyes blank when he.

"Dean, sweetheart, I'm here if you need to talk. I'll still be here to tomorrow," Mary whispered, a reassuring smile playing on her lips. Dean felt his heart skip a beat, he just stared at her for the longest time, trying to keep the reserved expression on his face. Finally he nodded his head and left the house, jacket in hand. Mary kept a vigilant eye over her son, whose back had yet to slouch from its taut position. He knew she was watching, until he headed down the near empty street of her neighborhood. Once he was no longer in her line of sight, Mary stepped back inside closing the door.

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(Next: **Act II: Tabula Rasa**)


	2. Act II Scrapped Table

**Act II. Scrapped Table**

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_Which was born in a night to perish in a night,_

_When the soul slept in beams of light._

_God appears, and God is light_

_To those poor souls who dwell in night,_

_But does a human form display_

_To those who dwell in realms of day._

* * *

Dean sat at the wheel of the Impala, drumming his fingers and bobbing his head to a song that only he could hear. His tongue ran across the top of his dry upper-lip, successfully hiding a triumphant smile. Sam sat next to him, squinting at the empty road ahead of them, taking pleasure in the vibrations that rattled up the back of his chair into his back. The hot summer air blew into the car, circulating around them. Sam brushed his hair away from his face just in time to catch the pearly whites that were his brother's teeth. He snorted. "You're in a good mood," Sam noted.

Dean pushed his sunglasses back up on his face, his teeth pressed against his tongue. "Why shouldn't I be?" Dean inquired, smiling. Sam shrugged scratching the back of his hand. "No reason," Was his response. Dean gave him a weird look over the top of his sunglasses, he caressed the dashboard of the Impala with such affection, and Sam shuddered. That was something you'd do with your girlfriend, not your car. Dean's perchance for his 16th Birthday present was perplexing, even disturbing at times, but Sam understood it to an extent. After all, he owned a BMW. Granted it wasn't a classic like the Impala, but he valued it a great deal. "You know, if you two want to get a room, just let me know, Dean," Sam joked, starring out the window.

"Dean shoved his brother roughly, ignoring the death glare he received in turn. He patted the dashboard. "Oh, don't listen to him, baby. He doesn't understand-"

"Dean!" Sam's shout startled Dean, his rebuke died in his throat. He cast his gaze forward, and found himself staring a woman standing in the middle of the road, dressed in a white flowing gown. His foot, along with Sam's hit the brake pedal until it touched the floor of the car. The tires screeched in protest across the asphalt, the car showed no signs of slowing down. The Impala barreled through the woman as if she were never there, Dean and Sam shrank away from her body as it phased through them.

The car finally came to a halt throwing the brothers forward, Dean felt his heart pounding in chest, he met Sam's wide-eyed gaze. They were silent for a total of seven minutes then Sam spoke. "You saw that right?" His voice trembled, his fingers gripping the dashboard, paling rapidly. Dean nodded stiffly, swallowing against the obstruction in his throat. They looked out the back window of the car for any sign of a body, only there wasn't one. With a shaky hand, Dean started to turn the key in the ignition, the engine sputtered and roared to life, totally unaffected by the incident. Pressing his foot on the gas, Dean relaxed when the Impala tore down the road - its tire marks the only clue of its existence upon the road. "-Us," Dean muttered absentmindedly. Sam snapped his head toward his brother, his brow wrinkling.

"What?" He blurted. "I said 'Us'. I was finishing -," Dean groaned, rubbing his throbbing chest. "My sentence from earlier, about the car." Sam made a 'ah' noise, he didn't get the point in Dean's reason for that. They rode in silence, making the occasional grunt when shifting in their seats. As they neared their destination, which was just across the bridge, the engine began to sputter and car decreased in speed. Sam shot his brother a look, Dean paid him no mind and attempted to get the car to start up again. "No, c'mon Baby. Don't do this, not now," Dean pleaded, wincing as he listened to the engine turn over. The car rolled a stop in the middle of the bridge, abandoning them in their time of need.

"That's just great," Sam mumbled, slumped in his chair. Dean turned the car off and climbed out of the car. Sam watched as his brother hoisted the hood up and ventured to inspect the engine. A few minutes later, a large cloud of steam came rolling out from behind the bonnet of the car, he groaned in dismay. Dean closed the hood of the car with a slight bang; he walked around the front back to the open car door. Sitting down on the edge of the seat, Dean fished his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and searched his phone book. "Are you calling a tow truck service?" Sam inquired.

Dean shook his head. His hand unconsciously rubbed his chest again. "Carmen," He replied.

"Carmen, your girlfriend, Carmen Porter?" Sam cried, "What good will that do us?"

"Not a damn thing, but I wanted to call her, let her know that we'll be running late," Dean supplied, listening to the static crackling over his phone. Sam mumbled something unintelligible slouching further into his seat. This was terrible; 9:00pm already, and they still hadn't made it into town.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Carmen," Dean began hesitantly.

"Dean?" Carmen asked.

"Yeah, babe, it's me, Listen-"

"I've been sitting here… the park… hour now. You …gotten -" Dean's brow wrinkled as he attempted to make out Carmen's voice through the increasing static.

"No, no, I swear I haven't forgotten… the car broke down, were on the bridge- "

"What? I didn't get that. De-"

"Carmen-!" Dean moved away from his phone when an ear-splitting scream emitted from the phone's speakers. Sam sat upright in an instant, moving closer to his brother who was trying to raise his girlfriend on the phone. The screaming continued until the phone went dead. 'Call ended' scrolled across the screen, and then the phone shut off. Dean pressed the call button a couple times, a bewildered expression etched on his face. "My phone's dead. Sam, try yours, get some help," Dean sighed, closing his car door. Sam nodded numbly; he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and dialed Jessica's number as fast as he could. Pressing the phone to his ear, he listened anxiously for her voice with each ring that passed.

"Hello?" Sam could've sang praises to the angels at the sound of her voice.

"Jess, hey, it's me," He breathed.

There was a pause that lasted about a second. "Sam? Hey, where are you guys?"

"We're in the middle of the bridge, just a couple miles outside of town," Sam replied.

She didn't save me…

Sam jumped at the breath that tickled his hear. He cast a glance up at the rearview mirror; there was no one in the backseat. Stop freaking yourself out, man. He thought warily, turning back to the cell phone. "Jessica, did you get any of that?" He asked. There was no response; moving the phone away from his ear, he checked the screen. It was blank. "What? What is it?" Dean asked. Sam doubled checked his phone then looked to his brother. "My phone's dead," He deadpanned.

"That's not funny, Sam," Dean snapped. Sam hunched his shoulders as he extended his hand toward his brother. "I'm not joking, Dean, my cell phone is really dead," Sam replied. Dean snatched the phone from his brother's grasp, he had some nerve. Regarding the cell phone for a minute, Dean pressed a finger against the call button. The wasn't even so much as a blip from the phone, no matter how many times he pressed the button, the cell refused to activate. "Shit," Dean grumbled, reaching the phone back to Sam.

"I told you," Sam said, pocketing the cell. Dean never had a chance to reply to his brother, the strange irritation that had been growing his chest suddenly blossomed in the worst pain he'd ever felt. Sam found himself pressed up against the door of the passenger side, beyond alarmed by the scream that came from his brother.

He was sure he looked like a spooked cat right now. His heart beat wildly in his chest, he looked around for Dean unsure of what occurred. Another scream emitted from Dean, Sam found himself crawling over to the driver side door, out the car and across the bridge. His body rolled over a pair of legs, landing in a crouched position he spotted his brother on the ground. Dean's body convulsed violently, arms clawing at some unseen fiend. "Dean! Dean, what's wrong?" He shouted.

Naturally, Dean didn't answer, his screaming continued to grow in intensity, his hands fallen to his chest and were now clawing at his shirt. Sam struggled to respond accordingly, his hands grabbed a hold of Dean's wrists, then his shoulders when he couldn't keep wrestle his hands away from his chest. Dean's back arched upward as he rolled to the side, Sam attempted to follow his movement when the elder Winchester's body was forced violently back on his back by strength not his own.

Sam's eyes were drawn toward to his brother's chest, blood spread through Dean's shirt, Sam swallowed against the bile rising in his throat while Dean struggled to lift his head from the ground. Dean barely caught a glimpse of his bleeding chest when another torrent of pain assaulted him; his scream lacked the strength it once had, sounding more strangled than anything. "Dean!" Tears sprang to Sam's eyes, what was going on? What was happening to his brother? Sam's breathing became shallow as his brother's body twitched and his eyes roll up into his head. "Dean!" Sam cried. The young man made a move to grab his brother by the shoulders, when a decrepit image flickered over Dean's figure. Sam leapt backward with a shout, tripping over his feet he fell to the ground again. He felt his heart race and body tremble as the façade of the young woman the Impala had driven right through flickered in and out of sight, her fingers burrowing deeper into the skin of his brother's chest.

* * *

Sam felt himself shift wildly under the weight of the afghan before he was even fully awake. Sleep still weighed heavy in his eyes as they surveyed the area surrounding him, knowing full well that he was in the living room of his and Jessica's apartment. Pulling himself into an upright position he glanced at the digital clock of the DVD player; 11:33am. Grabbing the remote off the coffee table, he pressed the info button. It was Thursday. His arm fell back to his side, the remote slipped from his grasp onto the floor, unnoticed by the young Winchester. He thought of calling out to Jessica, but Jessica was probably in class by now. This reminded him that he had to get to class in half an hour.

Sam sat in the quiet of the living room for a moment, his mind was still abuzz from the vivid reemergence of a memory he wish never experience again. It had taken him months to forget what happened on the bridge; he used the method of denial he picked up from his father. Sam was pretty sure he hallucinated the entire thing, but the lacerations that remained on his brother's chest and bloody, tattered shirt said otherwise.

He never spoke about it to his brother and Dean never brought it up afterward. A shrill ring from the phone chased away the last remnants of sleep from his being. _Why would I dream about that?_ He thought rising from the couch. The afghan slid from his shoulders onto the cushions of the couch, Sam shuffled past the coffee table over to glass shelf where the phone resided. He regarded the photographs of himself with Jessica briefly before picking the phone up off the transparent shelf.

The phone answered for him when he lifted it from the base, he pressed the receiver to his ear and mustered in his best awake voice, "Hello?" When a long stretch of silence was his response, Sam's eyes lifted to study the ceiling. "Hello?" He repeated, not bothering to hide the irritating in this voice. He really hoped this wasn't an automated message looking to send on a trip to Disney World. Still, after another stretch of silence, he got no response. "Alright, this isn't funny anymore. I'm hanging up," Sam said.

"…Sam," The weight of Dean's voice had Sam frowning immediately. His brow furrowed and he pressed the phone closer to his ear. "What do you want, Dean? I've got class in -" He turned to regard the clock on the wall next to the window. "-I've got class in fifteen minutes." His brother had some nerve to pull a prank on him, a bad one, especially. Sam could hear the radio playing in the background over the phone, he recognized Eric Clapton's _"Blue eyes Blue"_ and immediately knew that Dean was over their mother's house. His foot tapped impatiently, waiting for Dean to answer his question.

The sound of his brother drawing in breath rattled in his ear and Sam cast another glance over at the wall clock. "Sam, I …I need you to get over here as fast as you can," Sam raised an eyebrow at the unsteady quality Dean's voice had taken suddenly. What could be bothering him? More importantly, why was he even calling? "What are you-"

"Please don't ask questions, just get over here now."

"Dean-"

"I'm not kidding around here, Sammy! Get over here _now_," Dean's voice had all but cracked at that point, and before Sam could get a word in edgewise, the line went dead. Sam pulled the receiver away from his ear, shooting the phone an insulted look. Placing the phone back on the glass shelf, he proceeded toward the doorway, where his jacket and shoes awaited him.

He really should've been getting ready for class; history taught Sam that Dean had nothing incredibly pressing to offer when he called, outside of a well laid prank that he always fell for time and time again. It was how he lost his Prom date to Dean, after all. It would be a cold day in hell before he admitted Dean's charm had anything to do with it. Grabbing his car keys, Sam exited his apartment.

* * *

Carmen was pulled out of her slumber by an uneasy moan in her ear. Squinting against the morning sun reflecting off the floor mirror, Carmen turned her head toward the source of the moaning and found herself nose-to-nose with her boyfriend, Dean. Her brow knitted together at the sound of mumbles, his face was pressed against her shoulder, his mouth moved out of sync with the sounds he was making. "Dean?" She whispered, the hoarseness of her voice waking her a little more. Dean's eyes opened immediately, the bewildered expression of sleep steadily began to leave his face as Carmen brown eyes came into focus and felt the tip of her nose against the side of his.

A dreamy smile befell him at the sight of Carmen's bare shoulders; pulling his arm out from underneath the covers he raised a hand to caress her face. Carmen watched his hand approach her face with restrained excitement, when the tips of his calloused fingers brushed against her skin she pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. Dean traced the outline of her jaw with careful precision, stopping at the edge of her chin. Carmen leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, Dean scooted closer to her to receive the full attention of her lips. Carmen pulled away from him and grinned. "Good morning," She sighed.

"Morning," Dean drawled, propping himself up on his elbows. "When did you get in?"

Carmen took a moment to answer his question; she rolled her eyes in a flippant manner, chewing her lip. "I think about 6:15," She replied. Dean grunted, eyebrows rising at the answer she'd given him. "That's late," He sighed, pulling himself into a sitting position. Carmen shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, the late nights and little sleep was a normal thing for her; at first she had been exhausted, struggling to adjust to the night shifts and sleep-in sessions at home that would last as far as the afternoon. It certainly put a strain on the more sexual aspects of her and Dean's relationship; she was too tired to do anything and he was far too wired with unfulfilled sexual energy to keep himself from touching her when they shared the bed. Now, she was used to it, but It certainly was a process that took getting used to. "Did your Mom like her present?" She asked.

"Yeah, she was really happy when I gave it to her," Dean said. Carmen nodded, watching him swing his legs over the edge of the bed. He there for a moment, hands gripping the edges of the bed, the muscles of his back visible against his skin. Dean stared at the neon numbers of the alarm clock with dismay. He was late for work, his boss was gonna kill him when he showed up. "What were you dreaming about?" Carmen's voice drifted out of the background like a breeze.

"Huh?" Dean replied, genuinely puzzled. Carmen shot his back an indignant look as she pulled herself up into a sitting position, holding the covers close to her chest she scooted over to Dean until she her shoulder was resting against his shoulder blade. Lowering her head, she rested her chin on his shoulder. Dean turned in response to her skin against his. "What's this about dreams, again?" Dean inquired.

"I asked what you were dreaming about," Carmen said. "You were moaning in your sleep."

"Melissa George?" He offered. Carmen gave him a good natured shove, amused and a little annoyed that he wasn't taking her question seriously. Throwing her hair back over her shoulder, she snaked an arm over his shoulder, her hand sliding down his chest. Dean felt his heart race at her touch. Lowering his head, he thought about what he might've been dreaming of before he woke up. It lingered on the back of his mind, just out of reach.

The blurred image of he and his brother inside the Impala sprang to mind, but did little to help him as that could've been from any number of memories. Finally he shrugged, too stumped to think any more. "I dunno," He said.

Carmen scoffed, giving him another shove. "Your such a liar, Dean Winchester," She chuckled, climbing out of the bed. Dean fell backward onto the bed, watching as she slipped into her violet sweatpants and reached for her white tank top.

An incredulous expression crossed his face. "I'm not lying, Carmen, I can't remember. Which means, it couldn't have been Melissa George, because I-" Dean never got to finish his sentence, Carmen grabbed a pillow and whacked him with it. Dean rolled to the side missing the second blow, he crawled off the bed. "Enough with Melissa George," Carmen laughed. She tossed the pillow at Dean who caught it with insulting ease.

"I would've remembered that!" He finished, laughing. Shaking her head, Carmen proceeded out of the bedroom.

* * *

When Sam arrived at their house, nor Dean or their mother was anywhere to be found. He searched every level of the house for their whereabouts, but could find no signs of them. Sam stood in the kitchen with a frown on his face; he could not believe he fell for Dean's shit _again_. As he started to leave the kitchen, he caught sight of a blue sticky pad note on the fridge. Curious enough to postpone going back to the campus, Sam snatched the sticky note off the fridge and examined it.

"_Gone to the hospital with mom._

_Get your ass here, ASAP! - Dean"_

Sam's brow furrowed, why were they at the hospital? Suddenly the tone in Dean's voice when he called him earlier, played back in his mind. Could something had happened to mom? Harm to one of his own, was usually the only thing that put Dean on edge, it was the same with their father. Shoving the note into his pants pocket, Sam left the house and headed for his car. He went slightly over the speed limit as he entered the downtown area, no one pulled him over.

When he reached the hospital, Sam parked just outside the crowded parking grounds of the building, taken aback by the sudden activity so early in the morning. Upon entering the hospital, he pretended not to notice the rows of people crowding the first waiting room. Silently, he prayed Dean and mom were not a part of whatever happened to them.

Sam surveyed the area for this brother, his ears tingled from all chaos sounds going on around him, he found himself stepping out of the way for every person or gurney that came his way, his head was spinning by the time he reached the counter. Sam braced himself against the smooth surface of the counter, catching his breath. The woman standing at the desk glanced away from the computer screen and forced a smile. "How may I help you sir?"

"I'm- I'm looking for a Dean or Mary Winchester," He said. "He asked me to meet him here."

"Are you family or friend?"

"Family, I'm his brother, Mary is our mother," He explained briefly. The nurse's smile dropped her face which turned grim for the tiniest second, Sam watched her focus on the computer screen again, her fingers danced across the keyboard with frightening ease. There was a pause, Sam felt himself becoming antsy from the woman's dramatics, why was it so hard for hospital personnel to just explain the situation?

A half smile graced the nurse's features. "Ah-ha, here they are. Name was filed backwards; Winchester, Mary. Their up in the ICU, 10th floor, room 210," She said. _Damnit,_ that was all Sam needed to hear, pushing away from the counter he headed down the hall for the elevator. In his rush to get to the elevator, it occurred to him that he would probably end up waiting for the freakin' thing to come from whatever level it was on, which only seemed to make him angrier. What the hell were they doing in the ICU? He thought, pressing the button three times. He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying his best to keep himself from lashing out at something while he watched the light jump numbers.

"Sam? Sam is that you?"

Sam turned; standing across from him was Carmen.

* * *

"Alright, I've gotta be at work in forty minutes, or Mitch will fire me,"

"Okay, I'll see tonight - or tomorrow morning, whichever,"

"I'll wait up just in case it's the first and not the latter,"

"Hmm… hoping to get some extracurricular activities in before bedtime, are we?"

"You know it, sweet cheeks,"

Somewhere between getting to work and needing to see his mother Dean was visited by the mysterious woman again. He'd been searching his glove compartment for his cassette copy of _Ride the lightning,_ when felt the temperature take a sudden plunge inside the car and hand, which may as well have been made of ice, grab the left side of his chest.

It was as if his entire nervous system came to a halt, he barely had time to slam on the breaks before the pain crippled him completely. Outside of the Impala, cars swerved out of the way, hitting their own breaks, slamming into each other in the process.

Curling up on himself was difficult due to the seatbelt, he tried to close his arms around his chest, but the hand wouldn't allow it. Dean twisted wildly in his seat, unable to find a safe haven from the pain. _God, make it stop, please make it stop!_ No one, or no God seemed to hear his pleas, however. The pain traveled from his chest all through his body, his head seemed to be the most receptive to the agony. He felt like it would explode if the pain got any worse. Shifting his gaze to the right, he saw the body the hand was attached to.

Only, instead of a beautiful woman bathed in sunlight, she was haggard reflection of a reanimated corpse. Her hair was dried out, falling from her head, her eyes were hollow and void of any color or life, and he saw nothing except the whites of her eyes. Her skin, gray and wrinkled, was covered in bruises and dried blood. Her nightgown was soaken wet, spotted with fresh blood. Dean felt tears roll down his face as his vision blurred.

However, he did not fall unconscious; instead he was thrown into a flurry of images. He saw flashes of the house exterior, a woman sitting on the swing as she observed his mother inside. The perspective changed, he was now inside the house. Mary stopped in the center of the living room, hand on her chest. From outside the house, he watched her fall out of sight, onto the floor. There was a shrill cry of pain that sent a shiver down his spine, then silence.

The woman in white appeared in front of him, her beautiful appearance decaying by the second.

_She didn't save me._

_You won't save her either._

* * *

"Do you know what happened?" Sam's voice shattered the uncomfortable silence that settled between the two. Carmen glanced up from the clipboard she'd been carrying around with her all morning, she shrugged.

"I only just found out they were here," She replied. "I was coming back from lunch when I saw the Chevrolet parked out front." Sam laughed quietly at the label Carmen had decided to use; Almost no one he knew called the Impala a 'Chevrolet', it seemed like a completely alien word when concerned with that blasted vehicle.

"I meant to come up here earlier, but I got swamped by work on the 1st floor," She tucked her hair behind her ear. "I hope they're okay."

Sam hoped so too.

After a couple pit stops, the elevator finally came to a stop at the tenth floor. Sam was out of the door before it opened completely, Carmen followed suit. He ignored the looks from the medical personnel as he traveled down the hall, checking the numbers on all the doors. He was half way down the hall when he finally reached room 510. "Dean!" He pushed the door open, manners momentarily forgotten.

The anger in him drained away at the sight of his mother lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to a myriad of life-support machines. Dean sat next to her, slouched in the chair, pale as the woman he watched over.

"Dean?" Sam repeated. This time his brother turned to regard him, his eyes was puffy and red from crying (not that he'd admit to something like that).

"It happened again, Sam," He said.

_What happened again? _Sam wanted to ask. He never got another word in, unfortunately; Carmen raced into the room, several other people following behind her, though they stopped at the door. Seeing Carmen seemed to motivate Dean more than seeing Sam did, he rose from the chair and allowed her to envelope him in a hug. Pulling away from him, her hands cupped his face. "Dean, are you okay?" She asked.

"I'm okay, Carmen," He replied quietly.

"Dean, what happened to Mom?" Sam said, making his presence known again. Dean averted his gaze from his girlfriend to his brother, he seemed almost hesitant to even speak with Carmen in the room. Sam couldn't blame him, especially if his brother was talking about what he thought he was talking about. The choice of what to do next was an easy one.

"Uh, Carmen, could you give us a minute?" He said.

Carmen paused, she shifted her gaze to Dean, hoping he would object to his brother's request. He didn't. Resigned, Carmen nodded. "S-sure," She said. Carmen gave Dean's arm one last squeeze before exiting the room, there was a sudden chatter of voices outside of the door, Sam could hear them asking Carmen questions as she headed down the hall. Sam walked over to the door and closed it. "So what happened?"

* * *

When Dean came to, there was a swarm of angry and concerned drivers surrounding the Impala. He didn't even remember blacking out, he remembered nothing except the frigid cold of the woman in white's grasp. Dean was fairly certain was losing his mind, shit like what happened to him wasn't normal on any level. Hell, it wasn't sane.

Fighting against the pain in his chest, Dean started up the Impala and pulled out of traffic, leaving the angry/concerned mob behind him. His head spun causing his vision to double, but he managed to maintain consciousness long enough to escape the lunch-hour traffic. When he arrived at his mother's house, the first thing he noticed was the swing; it swung back and forth as if someone was on it.

Climbing out of the car, Dean stumbled across the walkway up to the front door. Bending over, he grabbed the spare key from under the welcome mat and shoved it into the keyhole. With a twist of the key, the door opened without a problem. "Mom!" Dean stumbled the rest of the way into the house, hand pressed against his side, where a cramp was beginning to start.

"Mom?" He called again, peering into the living room. She was right where he saw her, lying face down on the floor next to the silverware cabinet. "Mom!" He dashed across the short distance between him, dropping to his knees the second he reached her. Rolling her over on her side, Dean recoiled at the sight of blood running from her nose, down her pale lips. Dean tried to keep himself from thinking the worst. He placed two fingers at the base of her neck. There was a pulse, it was weak, but it was a pulse. Reaching into his left pants pocket, Dean retrieved his cell phone and dialed 911.

* * *

Sam listened on with a blank expression, his jaw shifted uncomfortably as he grinded his teeth. Dean was back in the set next to their mother's bedside, his shoulders were slouched, his elbows rested on his knees while his hands ran through his hair.

"I swear to you Sammy, it was just like that night on the bridge," Dean said. "The same night Mom had her heart attack and it happened again. Only this time, I saw her. I saw that woman-"

"Dean, you can be serious. I mean-" Sam paused, searching for the right combination of words to use to rebuke his brother. "-Look, I'm not saying whatever happened that night, didn't happen-"

"Then what _are_ you saying, Sammy?" Dean snapped.

"I'm saying, who's to say any of it was actually real? Ghosts, spontaneous injuries- none of its logical!"

"Oh, so, what, we both had a crazy moment together?" He said, rising from the chair. "Sam, we both saw the same damn thing happening to me - you _saw_ that girl, and you're trying to chalk it to some sudden mental breakdown? I dunno about you little brother, but sounds like you're the one with some serious denial issues."

Sam cast an uneasy glance at the door behind them, he really hoped no one was eavesdropping. Now was not to the time to get into a fight. They'd be thrown out the hospital before they even got to throwing punches and they were no good to their mother outside of the hospital.

"Look, I'm not denying anything, Dean. Okay? I'm just trying to be reasonable about this whole situation," Sam rebuked.

"Reasonable? Sam, there is nothing reasonable about the situation. I'd be the first the guy to tell you, that everything comin' out of my mouth is bullshit. But, it's not. I swear to you, it's not. Everytime, I see that girl, something always happens to mom. She's been showing up all week now, she's like freakin' Endora from _Bewitched_," Dean sighed. "She attacked me and it was like I was being shown the past or the present-"

"Wait, what? What the hell are you-"

"She did that thing with her hands, it was like I was being electrocuted or something, Sammy," Dean attempted to explain. "Then it was like I - I was having an out-of-body experience. I saw her standing outside, watching mom on the old swing, and then I saw Mom collapse. I blacked out."

Again, Sam found himself unsure how to respond to that. "I- uh, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I didn't think I'd be when I found mom on the floor, right where I saw her fall," Dean said. "I was that close to losing it when I called you, man."

Sam nodded. "Do you know what happened to her?"

"They said it was a stroke. They don't know what caused it, just they don't know what caused the heart attack."

"I was afraid of that." A pause. "Do they know she'll wake up?"

There was a long stretch of silence from Dean, Sam watched his brother's face as it began to lose its steely expression. Lowering his head, Dean said, "No they don't - she's in a coma, Sammy. There's no telling when she'll wake up."

Sam was pretty sure his heart stopped beating.

* * *

Later that night, after spent most of his afternoon explaining to all of his teachers his absence, he finally went home to his and Jessica's apartment. There was little he could do at the hospital, except stare at his unconscious mother and his brother, who'd drawn so far into himself after his confession, that he barely responded to anything Sam did to try and coax him out of his stupor. On the way out of the hospital, he asked Carmen to call him if anything changed. "Try to get Dean out of the room, too," He said.

"Of course," Carmen replied. "I'll be sure to do that - both of those things. I'll see you later Sam."

Sam certainly hoped Carmen would honor both his requests. Lying in bed with Jessica, the younger Winchester appreciated the silence crowding in around him. Jessica lay against him, her head rested on his chest while her arm lay draped across his abdomen.

"Did they say when she'd wake up?" Hearing his own question thrown back at him by Jessica made him shift a little. She had been so quite the past half-hour that Sam was sure she'd fallen asleep. Sam shook his head; his hand caressed her hair slowly, trying to think of anything but his mother. Jessica seemed to pick up on his uneasiness and changed the subject. "Is Dean alright?"

"Dean's fine. He's always fine," Sam groused. "But, really, he's beside himself with grief. He thinks he had something to do with mom's stroke."

"That's crazy," Jess murmured.

"I know it is, but you know Dean; He's responsible for the family's wellbeing. If something goes wrong and feels he could've stopped it, he'll shoulder it like a badge of shame. There's no changing him, no matter you do. Dad was the same way."

There was a noncommittal grunt from Jess as she readjusted herself in the bed, Sam exhaled slowly and joined her as she rolled over on her side. Pressing his face against her shoulder blade, Sam closed his eyes. The time for talking was over now, as time passed, Jess was the first to fall asleep. Sam remained awake a little longer; his mind toiled over what he could do for his brother in their mother's stead.

If Dean had his way, he would remain in that chair until Mary woke up. Or crawl into his little corner of darkness and brood for eternity, playing "what if" scenarios until the cows came home.

While he depended on Carmen to prevent this, some small part of Sam hoped he would be the one to help his brother. Maybe it would help patch up the bridge both of them spent so much time slow burning since he hit puberty.

_I'll be the one to fix everything this time. Just watch._

* * *

**END.**


End file.
